It's a Dirtier Job
Nairobi, Kenya
African Continent, Earth
“You know, you’d think that after the first five or six hideouts these Hydra guys would learn,” Sam Wilson said as they crept warily up on what was reportedly the secret entrance of the megalomaniacal group’s most recently identified hideout; this one being in the basement of the Union Bank building. A basement with no exit. The six-man team had already circumvented the cameras and various alarms and were making their way through a labyrinth of corridors. “I mean, Nairobi is only three hundred miles from the most technologically advanced country in the world.”
“Ever hear the saying that sometimes the best place to hide something is in plain sight?” Scott Lang asked.
“That only works when people aren’t paying attention,” Sam replied quickly.
“Um-,” Scott started to say.
“We can’t all be tiny like you, Tick-Tack,” Sam amended even quicker.
“Sam might have a point,” Clint Barton said from the rear of the group.
“Sam,” Steve Rogers said from the front of the group “have you ever heard the phrase ‘borrowing trouble’?”
“Tell me,” Natasha Romanova cut in “have any of you heard of the phrase ‘stealth op’?”
“Come on Nat,” Clint replied. “Tell me you don’t have that tense feeling between your shoulder blades. We’re overdue for something bad to happen.”
“Made all the more likely by the constant chatter about that impending something,” she replied pointedly, as they came around the last turn into another anticlimactic hallway.
“Natasha’s right,” Rogers said as they approached what appeared to be a normal door. “Let’s keep it down,” he added as they approached what appeared to be an ornamental shelf. It blended quite well with the rest of the hall’s motif. It wouldn’t have drawn any attention from anyone who didn’t already know what it really was.
Sam carefully lifted and slid the façade to the side revealing a steal reinforced door at least a foot thick. “You’re up Tick Tack,” he whispered.
“Right,” Lang said, ensuring he was right in front of Falcon before miniaturizing himself. Sam just shook his head, a slight grin peering out of one side of his face. A moment later Lang’s voice came through their radios loud and clear. It wasn’t like he had to worry about his voice carrying when he was small enough to fit through the cracks in the security door. “Why do they keep making these things thicker?” he asked while panting hard. “It’s like these guys hate me or something. “
“They’re probably just concerned you aren’t getting your calisthenics in,” Falcon murmured.
“It’s a valid concern Scott,” Cap added. “You should go running with me and Sam some time.”
“No thanks,” Lang laughed as he puffed along. “Getting humiliated by you is Sam’s hobby, not mine. Alright,” he added a moment later “I’ve reached the other side. Stand by. It’s . . . empty!” he added surprised.
“What?” three people almost yelled as Nat rolled her eyes.
“Quiet,” Wanda (Scarlet Witch) Maximoff hissed.
“It’s empty,” Lang repeated. “There’s not even a guard on this side of the door.”
“Alright, let us in,” Cap ordered, half turning to Widow. “Is this where you ask if we’re familiar with the phrase ‘I told you so’?” She just raised an eyebrow as if to illustrate the lack of need.
A moment later there was a loud thunk from the door. It opened to reveal a life-sized Scott Lang standing in front of a normal enough looking office floor. “Entrez s’il vous plait,” he said with a grandiose bow that included a wave for them to enter the room.
As Cap entered the arch there was a beep, followed almost directly by an explosion as the entire frame came apart. Cap barely had time to extend his retractable shield and face it upwards to protect his head, but that left his sides exposed. Wanda managed to stop most of the concrete shrapnel aimed for his vital organs but the pressure wave sent him flying, unconscious, through the air, to collide with a counter. The others on the outside were protected from the blast due to their positions against the wall, but Lang was caught completely off guard and thrown over the counter.
“Well hey there tiny,” a stereotypically thuggish voice said as a dozen men in combat rigs appeared from behind several desks and concrete walls. Five of them were behind the counter Lang had been thrown over. He was barely aware of one of them reaching down. At first his dazed mind interpreted this as one of his allies reaching down to help him up and he actually reached out to him. But, just before the man could rip the control unit off of his suite his eyes snapped to the Hydra pin on his lapel, and he instinctively hit the miniaturization button on his suit.
“Shit,” the man cursed raising his weapon and looking frantically around. A moment later Lang expanded from directly under the gun, grabbing it and kicking the man in the shins. He used that moment of pain to turn the assault rifle on his assailant and fired. He then miniaturized again before said assailant’s friends could avenge him. Their crossfire wounded another two of their own before they registered that their target was nowhere in sight.
At the same moment the frame came apart, miniguns lowered themselves from the ceiling on either side of the hall. Wanda barely had enough time to stop focusing on the pieces of doorframe and put her barriers up to protect the group, but the strain those streams of bullets were placing on her abilities was immense.
“Shit! Into the room,” Sam snapped leading the way. He started with his wings in front of him as bullet shields. He quickly emptied his clip as he passed the threshold, scoring hits on two Hydra thugs, before turning and extending his wings to their maximum reach on either side. He dropped to one knee, bracing the other leg out to counter the momentum of the many hundreds of bullets currently impacting it, and dropped his head. The others dove into the room, Clint dragging Wanda through last.
Nat popped up from the cover of Sam’s left wing and fired three shots from each pistol, hitting twice. Realizing she’d probably drawn more attention than she would have liked, she ducked back down just before seven of the gunmen turned their fire on her. Clint took advantage of that momentary lapse to pop up from behind the right wing and fire an explosive arrow at the center of a trio that was currently trying to perforate Nat. He ducked back down as two of Nat’s remaining assailants turned towards him.
Of the two that hadn’t targeted the dynamic duo one was vigorously stomping behind the counter, in a desperate bid to squash Antman like a five-year-old stomping on run of the mill ants. He was having about the same luck as that hypothetical five-year-old. He’d also completely forgotten that Lang was actually an ant sized human, a point that made itself apparent when Antman re-expanded on the upward part of the man’s stomp movement. Lang grabbed the man’s foot from directly underneath and pushed up while expanding, forcing his assailant’s knee into a rather awkward merger with his nose.
The last of those not paying attention to the spy and the assassin was attempting to get a shot at the still unconscious form of Rogers, laying just on the other side of the half wall he’d taken cover behind. “Cover fire!” he yelled just before he vaulted over the barrier, pointing his gun downward at the helpless form. The other Hydra thugs responded with a flurry of suppression fire that was plenty to keep Nat and Clint’s heads down.
But it didn’t stop Wanda from seeing what he was attempting through the gaps in Falcon’s titanium alloy feathers. It was no more effective at stopping her from flinging the man telekinetically upwards, jamming his head into the ceiling with a crunching sound that drew a wince of sympathy from all assembled.
“You guys think you could stop playing with them?” Falcon grunted, bracing his hands on his knees. “Their bullets do have mass you know,” he added, perhaps a tad bit surly about his role as a tower shield in this particular fight.
Just then Scott hurled an assault rifle like a discus at two of the remaining men across the room “Now!” he yelled before ducking back down. The sound drew all four of that group’s attention, if only for a fraction of a moment. Nat and Clint used that fraction for all it was worth, popping up over Falcon’s wings to finish all four of them off.
“Clear,” they said in unison.
“Yeah, clear,” Scott added half a second later. As Falcon stood and retracted his wings there was a boom from the other side of the room followed by the sound of cars accelerating.
Apparently, that was enough to wake Cap from his beauty sleep. “Ungh,” he groaned struggling to rise as the others went to help him. He stopped part way through the motion and groaned in pain. His left hand felt along his side and grasped on to something. “Is everyone all right?” he asked the room in general.
“Tick Tack,” Sam said as he knelt by Cap “go check the other room.”
“On it,” he said before dashing from where he was hovering.
Meanwhile Steve had more important concerns. “Gaahh,” he groaned as he ripped a three-inch piece of rebar out of his ribs.
“Sorry about that,” Wanda murmured, already chastising herself.
“Wanda,” Steve said slowly, removing his helmet “we’ve talked about this. You saved my life. You don’t need to apologize for missing one piece of an entire door.” She didn’t respond. He could almost hear her arguing with herself about whether or not she should listen, whether or not he was being honest or simply softening her failure.
“Times like this I wish Stark were here,” Nat said from the door where she was watching the hall.
“Why, so he could go through the door?” Steve asked.
“No, because his sensors probably would have noted the explosives,” she replied.
“I’ll ask the king about that,” Cap replied with a sigh.
“I guess it’s a good thing you went through the door then,” Clint said from the other end of the room where he was watching the door Scott had disappeared through.
“Thanks Clint,” Cap replied, looking down to see that he was still holding the rebar. He flicked it to the floor in annoyance.
“No, he’s right,” Sam said from where he was cuffing the surviving members of the ambush group. “Any of us would have been killed by the overpressure. Hell, Tick Tack probably would have anyways if he hadn’t been wearing a helmet.”
“Someone talking about me?” Scott asked, reappearing from whence he’d gone. “Hey, me friendly,” he added as Clint drew back on his bow at his sudden presence.
“How many times have I told you not to do that?” Clint said, relaxing his grip.
“Sorry,” he said, edging past the modern-day ranger. “You all right, Cap?” he asked as he weaved between the various consoles in the room.
“Hey,” Sam interrupted, standing back up “what happened in there?”
“Well you must be all right if Sam’s talking for you,” Lang replied sardonically.
“I’ll be fine Scott,” Rogers said.
“Good,” he replied “because you need to see this,” he added, hooking his thumb back to the other room.
Sam whistled in surprise as they entered the room. It wasn’t anything they’d expected, or anything they’d seen in the previous five bases they’d liberated. It was a garage, complete with three 2016 Toyota Corollas of varying color still sitting there.
“This room’s directly beneath the bank’s subterranean parking lot,” Lang said pointing upwards. They planted charges and dropped the ceiling. Then they just drove out,” he said pointing to what looked like a half inch steel plate that had kept the concrete mostly intact as it fell. The plate was connected by a massive hinge to the ceiling.
“Sam,” Cap ordered.
“Already on it,” Sam said, skimming through the surveillance footage from the drone he insisted on calling Redwing.
“So much for letting them underestimate us,” Cap muttered, still holding his side.
“I tried to warn you,” Sam replied without looking away from the screen. The view showed a sudden plume of concrete dust bursting out of the parking structure’s sides. Three cars plowed through the cloud at reckless speed, each banking a different direction. Sam manipulated the controls to get a better view of the cars and backed the footage up again. “Alright, looks like a white Toyota Camry, a blue Hyundai Elantra, and a dark green Nissan Sentra,” he told them. “All models within the last three years.”
“Alright, Sam,” Steve said, quickly snapping orders “you’re on overwatch. Find those cars. Clint, you and Scarlet take one of the cars they so kindly left us. Kat, you and Scott take the other. Sam, when your done directing them you take the last car.”
“What about you?” Wanda asked.
“I’ll only slow you down,” Steve said. “Besides, someone needs to deal with these guys,” he added, nodding back to the other room. “Rendezvous at the fallback point,” he told them, as he pulled out a small button. “So much for quiet in and quiet out,” he muttered as he pressed it.
They all traded a quick glance and bolted for the cars. “Dibs on the Hyundai,” Widow called out as she slid across the hood of one of the Camrys.
“Why the Hyundai?” Lang asked as he got into the left seat of the car. She already had the car started and her seatbelt on.
“I won’t feel bad about wrecking it,” she said with a grin. She gunned the engine, accelerating far more recklessly than their prey, while he struggled with the seatbelt.
Once they were gone Steve limped back into the other room to check on the prisoners. As he entered the room two of them pushed a false tooth clear.
“Cut off one head,” they said in unison.
“Yeah, yeah I know,” Cap replied pulling a quick injector out of a pocket.
“Two will rise,” they finished doggedly before passing out.
“You guys really need to learn some new tricks,” Steve said jabbing the injector into their chests. The antidote was also a sedative, meaning he wouldn’t have to worry about escape attempts whilst he secured their transportation. He jabbed the other three survivors just to be safe, and stood up to survey his options.
He couldn’t very well hump them all to the extraction point; it would no doubt be a bit suspicious if he buddy tied them all together and drug them to the parking structure. And he certainly wasn’t going to try and cart them out in a Corolla. Aside from the visibility issues there was the fact that they wouldn’t fit. And, if one of them were to shake off the sedative a little quickly it would be hell containing him.
He looked around again, stopping when he noticed the hole in the ceiling. On impulse he jogged over to it and climbed up the rather steep incline of the escape ramp. It led to the parking area of a bank. And banks meant, he thought as he spotted what he was looking for. The guard station would have made it obvious, but the heavy fortification, tire spikes, and barricade really clinched it.
He only made it a dozen or so steps towards the entrance before a guard stepped out brandishing a pistol. “Stop,” he said in English.
Rogers considered his options. This guy probably had no connection to Hydra. He was just some guy doing his job. Steve couldn’t justify killing or even severely injuring him, which automatically canceled the most expedient methods of achieving his goal.
“Please help me,” he said pulling his hand from his side to reveal his wound.
“Stay where you are,” the middle-aged man said. His hair was short and his skin was almost as black as an inkwell. Steve noted the hand holding the gun was shaking slightly. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. On the one hand it meant the man didn’t want to shoot anyone. On the other, it meant he might fire by accident.
“Please,” Steve replied, limping towards him. He was probably overdoing the performance, but he’d never been a good actor. Besides, all he needed was a few more seconds.
“Stop or you will be shot,” the man ordered. Wanting to shoot or not he clearly knew his business.
Steve considered his options. There was still a good ten feet of garage separating them putting him out of reach of the man’s gun. And having his body violated by high speed metal once was more than enough for today as far as he was concerned. It didn’t seem that the guy was buying his performance, but what the hell; in for a penny, in for a pound.
He sank to his knees and doubled over, still holding his side. Then he let out a groan that sounded so fake he wondered that the guard didn’t just shoot him. “Please,” he almost wailed, to try and cover it.
Steve heard the man holster his weapon. “I will get help,” the man said, turning back to the shack. Steve leapt to his feet, covering the remaining distance in two long painful strides.
“I’m sorry,” he said, disarming the man as he turned to investigate the noise. Steve wrapped the arm holding the gun around the man’s neck, using his other arm as a lever to cinch it tight.
“What?” the man asked in confusion.
“I really am sorry about this,” Steve whispered as the man lost consciousness.
Despite the added pain involved Steve carried him back to the shack and set him gently on the floor. He was barely done securing him with his own handcuffs when the man groaned and came to.
“What are you going to do to me?” he asked, fear evident in his voice.
“Nothing,” Steve told him. “But I’m afraid I need to borrow one of your vehicles. I’ll try not to damage it.” The man stared at him as if he’d suddenly started speaking some alien dialect, but he made no move to stop him as he grabbed his security badge.
“You’re that America guy,” the man said finally. “Captain America.”
“Well, no,” Steve replied. “I mean I was, but not anymore,” he explained wistfully. “The beard and smooth head really make it hard to tell don’t they,” he added as he stood up and surveyed the guard shack. It had a door leading to the rest of the garage, a console to the left that presumably lowered the barricades, and a case on the right-hand wall.
The keys to the cars were in the locked case, but the badge wouldn’t open it. Steve really didn’t feel like rummaging through the guy’s pockets, so he activated his shield again and shield punched a clean cut in the lock holes. The force caused the now freed door to swing on its hinge. He grabbed the lowest denomination key, hoping the cars would be parked in numerical order, and exited through the other entrance.
It took only a few seconds to find the car that would accept his key and get inside. As he climbed into the cab, it occurred to him that he’d broken far more laws since becoming an outlaw than in all the years since. He wasn’t really sure if years as a ‘capsicle’ should or shouldn’t count towards his good behavior, but it either way it was a disturbing trend.
He parked the armored car at the gate just long enough to hop out and deactivate the barricades, then drove back to the hole the escapees had made. His sleeping beauties were still out on the ground. First thing, he removed some incredibly advanced zip ties from a pocket and set about restraining them. There was little doubt that they would wake before he could get them to a detention center and he didn’t want them making trouble.
Then he dragged them, two at a time, up the ramp and threw them in the back of the armored car. He knew he should be gentler, but with his side feeling as though it had been the target of a cannon, he was having a hard time with empathy. Besides, he was in a hurry.
>>
“It’s the blue four door, three cars ahead of you,” Falcon told Nat. Between the take from Redwing and his own position flying above the city it hadn’t been hard to track down their wayward thugs. He’d directed Nat towards the Hyundai because, well she scared him. He had redwing following the Nissan, and he’d already directed Clint towards the Toyota.
“Got it,” Nat said spotting the rather high riding SUV. “Thanks Falcon.”
“Please consider Falcon Reconnaissance for all your future Hydra tracking needs,” he said as he banked north towards where the Nissan was leaving city limits.
“Got it,” Nat said with a slight grin. She pulled up on the right side of the blue monstrosity and aimed her wrist stunner at the rear wheel.
“Wait!” Lang said from the passenger seat.
“What?” she snapped.
“Well, it’s just that that car is much bigger than this one,” Lang said.
“Do you find it intimidating?” she asked, not getting what he was on about.
“No,” Lang replied “but it seems it would be easier to transport them to the alternate backup in it rather than this little thing. Of course, that would be a tad difficult if it’s been flipped several times.”
“You’ve been watching too many movies, Scott,” she replied in reference to his concern that the car would flip if she shot out its tire. “But you may have a point. How do you want to proceed?”
“Can you get me up to the left side of the car without them noticing us?” he asked just as their target suddenly gunned it, forcing their way through traffic. “Well so much for that plan,” he muttered as Nat swerved around the out of control vehicles their maneuver had created. “Just get me alongside,” he added as he was slammed into the passenger window.
“Right,” Nat said as she careened around more improvised barricades and accelerated. “You sure about this?” she asked, as she realized what he had in mind.
“Yeah, no problem,” he added as the rear passenger leaned out the window and began firing at them. “You know, I was just thinking something was missing,” he added as she dodged behind the vehicle.
“Get ready,” she said waiting for the man to reposition himself to shoot out the back of the car. “So predictable,” she muttered as he did so. She gunned the engine and rammed the back of the vehicle just as he was mid turn, making him drop the gun in the back. As he reached down to grab it, she swerved back to the left of the vehicle and accelerated, holding her right arm out in front of Lang.
As she fired, stunning the gunman she’d been playing with, Lang grabbed her arm and miniaturized himself to the size of a small paperclip. A slight pull during the process was all it took to send him airborne. In one fluid motion she caught the tiny hero and threw him at the now unoccupied window. She immediately backed off to avoid more damage. Whatever was going to happen was now up to the somewhat flighty master of mass.
As Lang entered the car, he hit his suit’s button again, expanding into a flying double kick aimed at the poor sod sitting in the back passenger seat. He barely had time to register the fact that his buddy had been stunned before an expanding set of size 10 boots hammered him into the side of the car.
The goon in the forward passenger seat was a bit quicker on the uptake. Before Lang had landed on the seat, he was already swinging a pistol around the seat. Lang pushed off of the back seat and shrank again before he could get a shot off.
Not that that stopped him from firing anyway; the errant bullet came within an inch of the slumped gunner Nat had stunned. As he searched for his intended victim Lang regrew from directly under his gun hand. As he expanded, he grabbed the wrist holding the gun with his right hand and pulled. At the same time his left hand came streaking up (helped by the increasing size) and dislocated the man’s elbow.
As he yelled in pain Scott’s right hand released and rocketed forward impacting the man’s collar bone with an open-handed punch. And when he lurched backwards from the strike Scott shrank again. As the arm he was still holding carried him forward into the front of the cab he leaped off and kicked the driver in the cheekbone.
While the driver recoiled, Lang vaulted off of his face towards the steering wheel. He slid quickly down it and jumped for the brake pedal. While in the air he increased his mass to normal, so the full force of an 87 kg man landed on it. The car lurched forward as the brakes engaged, fighting the engine. Realizing what Lang had done the driver stomped on the brakes as hard as he could.
Of course, it’s hard to miss a foot the size of a mountain heading your way; Lang had no trouble diving to the side. As the car came to a sliding stop Nat pulled up and stunned the front two.
“Not bad, Mini Me,” she said getting out.
“What do you mean not bad?” Lang protested as he climbed out of the car, back to his normal size. “This is totally deserving of some orange slices.”
“What is it with you and orange slices?” she asked beginning to pull the driver out of his seat.
“Well you see,” Lang explained “when I was training to be Ant Man-”
“I really don’t care,” Nat replied, cutting him off and stunning the guy in the back passenger seat as he started to come to. “Come on, help me get them in the back. Cap this is Ant-Widow,” she said keying her mike. “Got four sleeping beauties, en route to rendezvous.”
“Roger that,” came the reply.
“Let’s get them cuffed and in the back,” she said to Lang.
“Right,” he said as if being reminded of something he’d forgotten. He pulled a couple of high-tech zip ties from his jacket and got back to work.
>>
“How do you want to handle this?” Wanda asked Clint as he did his best to not look like he was following the white Toyota Camry that was in turn doing its best to not look like it was carting around a group of wanted terrorists and assassins.
“I don’t suppose you could pick the car up?” Clint asked.
“Lift it, yes. Keep it up?” Wanda asked with one eyebrow raised.
“Right,” Clint said. “Just stomp on their brakes I guess,” he told her.
She didn’t respond, instead beginning to weave the mystic spell that would allow her to depress the brake pedal. It didn’t take long for the occupants to realize something was wrong, and begin looking for the them. She supplemented their confusion by turning on the stereo and cranking the volume, activating the windshield wipers, spraying windshield cleaner, adjusting the seats and in general just creating utter chaos. If they hadn’t known better, the occupants would have probably thought the car’s name was Christine.
“Nice,” Clint said as he hit a button on the quiver he’d stashed between the front seats when he took the wheel. He lowered the driver window letting his left arm ride on the top. He then grabbed his compacted bow and placed it in his left hand. The arrow he’d selected followed.
Preparations complete, he pulled the E brake and turned the wheel hard to the right. As the car spun his left thumb activated the bow, causing it to extend just outside the cab of the car. His right hand released the wheel, grabbed the arrow, strung it, pulled it back, and released it in one fluid motion. He then lowered the E brake, turned the wheel hard the other direction, and pulled out of the spin.
Meanwhile the arrow he’d fired hit the rear driver side window, but instead of penetrating completely it lodged itself with just the head inside the cab. A half second later the head emitted an ultrasonic pulse that knocked out everyone in the car.
“Alright, let’s get them locked down,” he said, already hopping out of car. “And could you turn that music down please?” he added.
“Sure,” she said just as the music died.
“Kids these days and their loud music,” He muttered as he activated his mike. “Cap this is Hawk-Witch. Got five sleeping not so beauties.” He glanced at the car. There was no way they’d stay out until he could get them to the extraction site, and that was if he could fit them all in a car. Using both vehicles was out of the question; there’d be no one to watch the drivers back for when they woke up. He couldn’t expect Wanda to keep five people held down all the way back, and drawing a bow in a car was something worse than awkward. “Be advised,” he added “transport to evac site problematic at best.”
“Alright,” came the reply. “Find an area large enough to land in. I’ll have evac swing by and grab you first.”
>>
Falcon had no trouble relocating the last car. It had actually made it just out of city limits before he arrived on the scene. Now, picking the appropriate ordinance, that was a bit trickier. After all, it was an important occasion. Kind of like a first date. You didn’t want to overdo your restaurant choice with some fancy four-star establishment, but if you sprung for Burger King you probably weren’t getting so much as a peck on the cheek, no matter how much she liked Whoppers.
“Not that one, not that one,” he murmured to himself as he swiped through the various payloads his ‘bird suit’ had available. Say what you want about Stark, he knew all about pimping out someone’s gear. “Nope, we need them alive,” he said as he passed up the missile with the H.E. warhead. “Ah, there we go.”
No doubt the Hydra operatives were just starting to breathe easy when a rocket went screaming through the engine compartment. There was no warhead. It was little more than a rocket propelled bullet, a very big bullet. The car’s momentum ramped it over what was left of the engine as a large portion of it fell out of the compartment.
Most people probably would have considered such an event an act of God, and wondered what they’d done to piss the crotchety old bastard off. But Hydra knew who was coming for them. The car had barely stopped acting like a demented roller coaster when the doors opened, disgorging its occupants.
The driver had barely exited and was just beginning a skyward sweep when Falcon swooped in, killed most of his velocity, wrapped the wings around him creating a shell, and allowed his forward momentum to jam the driver between the door and the frame. He slid to the ground, unconscious. Alive did not necessarily mean healthy.
The shell opened revealing both of Falcon’s arms holding Uzis; Uzis aimed directly at the woman who’d just unassed at the rear driver side door. The fact that the window between them was bullet proof did not stop her from ducking as the bullets ricocheted up into the sky. Once she was down, he kicked the door as hard as he could. It swung closed. Well, as closed as it could before impacting her head.
Falcon stopped just long enough to hand cuff those two, trusting in his wings to protect him as the other two circled the car on opposing sides. As they finished flanking him, he pulled two grenades off of his vest, dropped them just outside the car, retracted his wings, and thrusted through the car. He took the opposite door on his left arm, rolling to absorb the impact. Then he straightened out into a rather sloppy double axel that would probably have earned him five points in the Olympics, and landed on one foot, one knee, and one hand. Another deduction. Sliding to a stop probably wouldn’t have helped either, but sometimes there’s just no accounting for style. Half a second later the two stun grenades took all the agents into La-La Land.
He stood back up, activating his radio as he marched back to the car. “This is Falcon-Wing,” he said, as he walked around the car. “Got four more, looking for a ride to the slammer.”
“Get ‘em prepped,” came the reply. Sam couldn’t help but roll his eyes since he was half way through cuffing the last one already.
“Gee thanks,” he said dryly to himself.
>>
“You’re welcome Sam,” Steve said with a grin as he drove the armored car up the final turn of the parking garage and onto the roof. He’d been slightly concerned about the garage handling that much weight, but that gave way to amusement as he heard Falcon realize his mic was on VOX. “Just get ‘em where they can be picked up,” he added as something red and gold shot past his window, taking his mood with it. “Extraction is incoming,” he added, pulling to a stop.
“What are the odds he didn’t see me?” Cap asked himself. Rhetorical as that question was, it was answered definitively when the suit came back into view and hovered directly in front.
“Come on out Cap,” Tony Stark said, aiming one of his armored sleeves at the cab. Steve considered running for it, dismissing that option immediately. He toyed with the idea of trying to ram the gold suit. It wouldn’t hurt Tony; but then, it also wouldn’t do much good. Besides Steve knew that just about anything Stark had in that suit could peel an armored car like a grape, with varyingly sized side effects to said grape’s occupants.
So, instead of escalating the situation he shut the engine off and sighed. He closed his eyes as if trying to steel himself for what was coming. He didn’t want to go out there. He was tired of being out there. This man was his friend. He was getting tired of walking the tight rope. One of these days, one of them was going to slip. And there was no net.
But it couldn’t be helped. Extraction was at least five minutes away. So, taking a deep breath he opened the cab door. “Hi Tony,” he said as he descended the steps “it’s good to see you.
“He’s been injured on the right side,” Friday (the AI assisting Tony’s suite, not the day) said, highlighting the wound for him.
“Yeah I see it,” Tony muttered. “We’re gonna have to improvise.”
Noting the lack of evasion and aggression Tony opted to land. “Really Cap?” he asked as his helmet retracted. “Have you really sunken all the way down to stealing armored cars?”
“Well,” Cap said with a glance back at the pinging vehicle “it was on my bucket list.”
“Mine too,” Tony said sarcastically “although I should point out that traditionally one waits until the car is full before taking it.”
Cap shrugged. “I filled it with more valuable items,” he said cryptically.
Tony glanced at the cab and back at Rogers. “I like the hair,” he said. “It suits you. All black opsey or something.”
“Thanks, how’s the new boss?” he asked pointedly.
“Oh, you know,” came the response “same as the old boss.” Steve couldn’t help but grin at that, partially because he actually got the reference for once. “How’s outlaw life? I mean aside from taking juvenile joy rides in armored cars, I mean,” Tony said gesturing to the vehicle.
“This needs to be done, Tony” Steve said, almost pleading with Stark to understand him. “Why can’t you see that?”
“I don’t know,” Tony said offhandedly, taking a step towards Steve “why can’t you see that you’ve become the thing you’re fighting?”
“I’m not Hydra,” Steve almost spat.
“Maybe different goals, but you go about them the same way,” Tony replied taking another step. “Tell you what,” he added a moment later “let’s just do a quick count. Assault,” he said starting to tick items off of his armored fingers “illegal entry, violating sovereign borders, kidnapping, destruction of property, and grand theft auto: Armored Car Edition. Does that about cover it?”
“I’m trying to keep people safe Tony,” Steve replied.
“Yeah, Hydra says that too,” Tony replied laconically, as he took another step.
They both acted at once. Steve chucked his shield at Tony’s helmet just as his target fired a set of leg restraints. Steve back flipped out of the way. Friday took hold of Tony’s other arm and caught the shield.
“I like the new shield,” Tony said, turning it over in his gauntlets. The scanner’s in his suit isolated its components and illustrated them on his screen. “A retractable buckler,” he added approvingly. He could see how the entire shield folded along its plane into one metal strip. He suspected that strip was designed to fit on Steve’s gloves. “You get it from Wakanda?”
“You don’t expect me to tell you that,” Steve replied guardedly.
“You know,” Tony said, ignoring that last “There’s a bit of irony in the fact that the King of Wakanda is the very person whose harboring you. Seeing as how it was the King of Wakanda that pushed The Accords,” he added.
“That was his father Tony,” Steve said.
“Still, I bet this shield cost him a pretty penny,” Tony added flipping the shield up and down. “You probably don’t want to go telling him you lost it.”
“No, I don’t,” Steve said hitting a button on the inside forearm of the buckler’s harness. There was a slight, high pitched whine before the shield exploded in a shower of purple energy. By some twist of fate, the shield careened off of three surfaces and straight back to Cap.
“One of these days you’re going to have to show me how you do that,” Tony said from where the explosion had slid him.
“I think it’s kind of like Thor’s hammer,” Steve told him. “You have to be worthy.”
“I see,” Tony said, immediately firing three more sets of restraints in a staggered procession. Cap blocked the first, dodged the second, but the third got one leg and arm. Unfortunately, it was not the arm holding the shield, and he quickly shattered it.
Then he threw the shield to ricochet off of a set of cars ending on a trajectory towards Tony, and charged. They both hit the metal man at the same moment. Tony blocked the shield with an arm curled to protect his head, and blocked the first punch. But the second was right on its heels, and aimed right between the eyes.
Tony stepped back from the blow and instinctively sent a thruster blast at Cap’s leg, sending him off balance. Then he punched Steve in the chest, sliding him back a couple of feet. Cap closed again, determined to keep a good showing until evac arrived. There was a flurry of blows so fast the human eye would only have seen a blur. Cap maneuvered Tony around until he could grab his shield again. But as he slid to pick it up Tony sent an arm rocketing at him. He was just barely able to get the shield up, but the blow still sent him sliding ten feet.
“You’ve improved,” Steve said, starting to breathe hard. His side was really starting to bother him. “Where’s your team?” he asked looking around.
“They’ll be along,” Tony replied. “Just sent them to pick up a few delinquents first.”
“You keep pushing that criminal angle Tony,” Steve answered. “It’s not going to work.”
“Come on Cap,” Tony said. Now it was his turn to plead. “This has gone on long enough. Come in voluntarily. Bring your kidnappees. I’ve got the best lawyers in the world. I’m talking six months house arrest and then you’re all back at it officially.”
“If we sign,” Steve said pointedly.
“Yes, if you sign,” Stark almost shouted. “Jesus, and people say I’m stubborn,” he added in frustration.
“And what then?” Steve asked.
“Then I can stop chasing you and focus on real threats,” Tony growled.
“Don’t you see Tony?” Steve asked. “This is exactly what I was afraid of. You know there are bigger threats, but they send you to chase us.”
Tony’s rather irate response was preempted by Friday. “Boss, some sort of stealth ship rescued Falcon. Colonel Rhodes is standing watch over their prisoners.”
“Alright that’s it,” Stark snapped at Cap, thrusting forwards. “I’m bringing you in.” Steve dodged out of the way of his outstretched hand.
“Are we really bringing him in?” Friday asked uncertainly.
“Maybe,” Tony replied thrusting around and shooting a buried water main. “I haven’t decided.” Water jetted from the new crevice directly at Cap. As he fought to keep his balance Tony hit him from the other side. There was a quick exchange, but before they could really get going a blast of blue energy hit Tony right in the helmet.
He lurched back just as Scott expanded with an uppercut that sent him, suit and all, flying.
“Sorry we’re late,” Widow smirked, joining the other two.
“Yeah, there was just this web of traffic,” Lang added.
“Where’s the guy that made it?” Steve said just as a well-aimed web bolt stuck Nat’s blaster arm to her face.
“Geez, those stunners hurt,” Spiderman said from his perch on a rail. “Cap could you tell her to not hit me in the face with that thing?” Spidey asked. “I’ve got a chem. final next week and I can barely-”
“-kid, just cool it,” Tony cut in, hovering from where he’d recovered from Lang’s sucker uppercut.
“Oh, right,” Spidey said, halting himself “I gotta work on that.”
“Son of a bitch,” Widow cursed as she yanked a knife out of its sheathe and began to cut her hand free.
“You know, I’m not exactly a math major,” Lang said, filling in the ensuing awkward silence “but it seems like you’re a touch outnumbered.”
“Well, quality over quantity, I always say,” Tony replied.
“Tony, I have never heard-” Cap started, before Nat cut him off.
“-um, who’s that?” she asked looking past Tony.
“Please, don’t stop your sibling squabbles on my account,” Steven (Dr., aka Mister, aka Master) Strange said as he slowly floated down from the portal he’d opened. A moment later Thor appeared, in urban attire, and plummeted fifteen feet straight down to the roof.
He landed in a crouch and glared up at that which had so recently reacquainted him with gravity’s heartless nature. “Wizard, if you continue these games, I will crush your head,” he growled
“That never gets old,” Strange said with a little smile, completely ignoring Thor.
“Steven,” Tony said, “mind lending a hand here?”
Strange made a show of considering that request. “I don’t think so, Tony,” he said, still grinning “It’s far more fun to watch.”
“Thanks for all the help,” Tony said with a small rueful smile of his own. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved by the wizard’s refusal.
“Oh no problem,” Strange replied in mock sincerity. “Oh, and speaking of helping,” he added “how’s that item I gave you coming along?”
“Boss,” Friday cut in again “that stealth ship picked up Wanda and Clint. Vision is-”
“Yeah Vision is guarding their prisoners,” Tony muttered.
“Probability assessment suggest they are heading here,” she added.
“You know, I really don’t have time to talk about it now,” Tony said to Strange irately.
“Of course, you’re a busy man,” Strange replied coolly. “What say I meet you in your lab in say,” he said, pausing to consult his broken watch “six hours?”
“Fine,” Tony growled.
“Then I’ll let you get back to your childish quarrel,” he said.
“Nice seeing you Steven,” Tony said, somehow managing to convey the opposite.
“Always a pleasure, Tony,” Strange shot back. “God of Thunder,” he added with a head dip before floating backwards into the portal.
“Tony, who was that,” Steve asked.
“Now!” Tony yelled. Peter immediately webbed Lang to Widow. As Lang tried to shrink it yanked Nat onto him.
“Little fucker!” Widow snapped cutting yet another cord.
“Kid enough with the bondage stuff,” Tony said, sounding more amused than anything else, as he fired a mini bola at Cap’s legs. “Just keep Cap busy for me.”
“Right Mr. Stark,” Peter said, leaping at the chance for a round two. Suddenly the entire roof was in chaos.
And in the middle of it was Thor looking more and more confused. “Tony, what is going on,” he asked.
Instead of answers he got an introduction. “Hey, you’re Thor right,” Lang said after expanding to normal size in front of him.
“Um yes,” Thor said.
“Oh, I am a big, big fan,” Lang said pumping Thor’s hand a bit too enthusiastically, as they ducked an errant body. “You know, I’ve wanted to meet you for some time. Where’ve you been?”
“Um,” Thor started “who are you?”
“Oh sorry, I’m Ant-Man,” Lang replied, gaining a stony look from the Asgardian. “Because I can shrink to the size of an ant,” he explained. “I can also expand. My record’s sixty-five feet.”
“I see,” Thor said sounding less than impressed. “So that’s it? You can change size?” he asked as they sidestepped Ironman.
“And I can control insects,” Lang added still shaking his hand.
“Well that’s a formidable army,” Thor replied, trying to sound nice.
“It’s cooler than it sounds,” Lang said thinking that was going to be his mantra. “You know, the kid’s called Spiderman and everyone thinks that’s cool,” he added.
“Yes, but don’t spiders eat ants?” Thor asked.
Lang’s response was rudely interrupted as Widow yelled “Scott you mind keeping your head in the game?”
“Oh, right,” Lang said. “Great to meet you and all,” he added as he shrank again. Thor got a firsthand look at the value of being small as Lang jumped into Spidey’s chest sending the kid flying.
Unfortunately for Lang, Thor had a point. Spidey was only airborne for a second before he twisted around, webbed Lang, and used it as a sling to launch the tiny terror off of the roof.
Fortunately for Lang, that just happened to be where the stealth jet had taken up residence. It decloaked, loading ramp already down, just as Lang sailed right between Clint and Wanda.
“Time to go,” Clint yelled, hitting Tony in the chest with an arrow. There was a brief arc of electricity and the suit fell to the ground. Wanda caught him and lowered him down gently. “That’s only gonna slow him down for a couple seconds,” Clint added as Wanda launched Spiderman off the building.
“That surge knocked out our flight systems and weapons,” Friday reported. “Breakers are resetting now.”
“No rush,” Tony muttered from where Wanda had set him. He was certain that she’d deliberately left him on his face with his ass sticking into the air.
“Welcome back Thor,” Cap said, giving him a clap on the shoulder in passing.
“Thanks,” Thor said holding a finger up, as if he had a question.
“Great to see you Thor,” Nat said as she passed him.
“Uh, yeah,” Thor said. “Great to see you too . . .”
“Systems reinitialized,” Friday reported.
“You know,” Tony said as he removed himself from that undignified position, “there’s such a thing as too efficient, Friday.”
“Tony,” Wanda yelled from the back of the Wakandan stealth ship, “would you please stop sending Vision to apprehend me?”
“Thor,” Tony said out loud as he aimed an arm at one of the jet’s thrusters. The stealth shield was making it an issue, but his sensors were still picking up enough for an educated guess. “I need you to knock me into that building.”
The confused look on Thor’s face intensified as that request registered. He looked from Tony to the getaway vehicle and back. For a second Tony was afraid he wouldn’t do it. But as Thor heard the charge building in the suit’s arm capacitors, he suddenly backhanded Tony into the building next door.
“Next time, Tony,” Stark said to himself as he slowly climbed out of the indent his short flight had made “use the word ‘gently’.”
“It’s only a few minor abrasions,” Friday chided him. “The suit’s healing protocols are almost done.” Tony didn’t reply.
“I don’t suppose you could explain what that was all about,” Thor said as Tony landed back on the roof.
“Just a second,” Tony said making a beeline for the armored car.
“Tony,” Thor said rather forcefully.
“Hey, it’s a six-hour flight back to headquarters,” Tony replied as he reached the back of the car. “I like the hair by the way,” he added. Then he opened the van. Inside were five rather ruffled looking men wearing the latest in leg and arm restraints from Wakanda.
“Cap’s been getting soft,” Tony stated, noting the lack of serious injuries.
Thor joined him, peering into the van. “More Hydra Operatives?” he asked.
“Yep,” Tony replied noting a rather beat up Hyundai Elantra parked nearby. There were several men who appeared to be struggling to get out of the car while hog tied. He fired a mini missile at it. As the missile reached the car it was bathed in an electric glow, and the struggling stopped. “Friday, let’s get these fine gentlemen and their associates boarded,” he said.
“The transport is already inbound from the last pickup location,” Friday replied.
“Any of our team get lucky out there?” Tony asked.
“Afraid not Boss,” Friday replied. “By the way,” she added “how much longer do you think you can milk sending Vision to apprehend Wanda?” Tony’s face tightened momentarily at that but he didn’t respond.
“Tony, would you please tell me what’s going on,” Thor asked clearly attempting to restrain his frustration.
“Yeah sure,” Tony said snapping out of whatever thought processes Friday’s question had started. “Just help me get these guys loaded first.”
“Loaded onto what?” he asked just as an advanced Stark style stealth jet the size of a P-3 Orion lifted itself above the parking garage. The rear loading ramp was down, with Vision and War Machine waiting at the edge.
“Well,” Thor said slowly “it’s certainly bigger.”
“The armored car and the blue Hyundai,” Tony said over the radio. They flew out of the ship. Vision headed for the Hyundai while War Machine took the armored car. But instead of simply retrieving the men encased in the vehicles they simply picked them up and flew them back to the ship.
“Friday could you tilt the ship forward twenty degrees?” Rhodes asked. A moment later the ship’s nose pitched downward. Rhodes tilted the armored car, rolling five rather panicked men from it into the carrier. The ship returned to its normal orientation and Rhodes returned the armored car to the roof.
“You enjoyed that a bit too much Colonel Rhodes,” Vision chastised as he shifted his grip to support the car under his right arm. He ripped a door off with his left and began plucking the men out of it and tossing them into the ship.
“Gotta get your kicks where you can Vision,” Rhody replied from the roof. “Besides, getting the shit scared out of you helps develop character.”
“Nice to see you Thor,” Rhodes said as he flew by Tony and Thor. “I’m driving,” he added before flying into the ship and heading forward.
“Fine, I have some catching up to do with Thor anyway,” Tony called after him.
“Whenever you two are ready,” Vision said as he dropped the car on the roof and followed.
“After you,” Tony said holding an arm towards the craft. Thor stepped forward and jumped the twenty feet to the ramp.
“Showoff,” Tony said, following.